


Fucking Stupid

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Skype, jehan and courf bein' jehan and courf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:31:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You wanna marry me?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Well that was a fucking stupid answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucking Stupid

                He was telling Courfeyrac a story about Enjolras’ stupid cat and how Grantaire had thrown it across the room when he woke up with it on his chest the previous week when Courfeyrac interrupted him.

                “You wanna marry me?”

                “What?”

                Well that was a fucking stupid answer.

                The dark-haired man rolled his eyes. “Sorry. That’s wasn’t very official.” He cleared his throat theatrically, “Jean Prouvaire, will you marry me?” He slipped out of his computer desk chair and onto the floor so Jehan could only see the top of his head and his eyes. “I’m kneeling, if you couldn’t tell,” he added unhelpfully.

                “Yes, I can see that,” Jehan muttered, blushing. “Get up you fucking weirdo.”

                “Oh,” he retorted, hopping back into his chair and sliding it forward so he could prop his elbows on the computer desk and put his chin in his hands, “ _I’m_ a fuckin’ weirdo? _You’re_ a fuckin’ weirdo.”

                “What the fuck ever.”

                They might have been nineteen and twenty-two but they still ragged on each other like teenagers.  

                “I don’t have a ring, though,” Courfeyrac frowned. “Crap.”

                “This was not a pre-planned thing, was it?” the poet smirked.

                “Uh…,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Yes?”

                “Don’t lie to me…,” Jehan warned with a raised eyebrow.

                Courf sighed like a petulant child, “ _Noooo_.”

                “Besides, I didn’t even say ‘yes’.”

                “Oh.” The dark eyebrows shot up, “So is this you saying ‘no’?”

                “No, dumbass. Course I’ll marry you.”

                “Oh, good,” Courfeyrac grinned. “’Cause I’ve been stupid for you for longer than I can remember.”

                “Really?”

                Hopefully he didn’t look or sound as taken aback as he was.

                “Of course. I fucking stupid love you.”

                “It’s fucking stupid to love me?”

                “No, I love you so fucking much it makes _me_ fucking stupid with how much I fucking love you, stupid.”

                “Well, um…thanks.”

                And Courf, because he was Courf and because he would never take something from Jehan that Jehan was not ready to give him, didn’t make it into some huge giant deal. He didn’t ask “Do you have something to say to me?” or “How about you?” or anything like that. Jehan figured he knew. Courfeyrac had to know. He had to know that Jehan loved him but that when he opened his mouth to say those words, his poetry failed him as well as his prose, his throat closed up, and he felt like he might actually die right then and there.

                “Hey, so I’ll see you next weekend,” Courfeyrac added, smiling like he couldn’t _wait_.

                “Oh yeah?”

                “Yep.”

                “Cool.”

**Author's Note:**

> eeeeeeey I hope you liked it.


End file.
